


What Do You Do For Money, Honey?

by Falafel_Waffel



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Tumblr: promptsinpanem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falafel_Waffel/pseuds/Falafel_Waffel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta was in a rut, though Finnick’s unorthodox approach to the situation just might make matters worse. Credit for the title goes to AC/DC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Do For Money, Honey?

I was in a rut, or at least that’s what Finnick told me.

Maybe that’s why he dragged me kicking and screaming to a strip club. “They’re hypnotic, man… I mean the good ones,” he says. “The bad ones are just… sad. That’s why you go on a Friday. Big business night means better girls!”

I snort. “Yeah, so half-naked women who have hit rock bottom can shake their tits in my face?”

Finnick grins. “Yeah, just don’t touch them. That’s how you get thrown out. The bouncer here could probably pitch you across the county. Haymitch is a good dude, but he has a mean arm.” Finnick can’t go anywhere without knowing someone. At the bar, it’s his best friend from high school. Some convention two states away? The teller from his bank. Finnick knows _everyone_.

Finnick was my roommate my freshman year. Now, in our senior year, he’s my lifeline.

“You just have to get over Madge, man,” he says, grabbing a seat right in front of the stage. “That was like a month ago,” he says matter-of-factly while handing me a beer, “So I’m getting you a lap dance.”

I choke on my Heineken. “Now that’s exactly what I need. VD right in the face!”

The music is pretty loud, but a pair of silver eyes narrows at me. She’s dressed like a goddess, in stilettos with brown leather straps that wind up to her knee, her hair in two braids over her shoulders.

Unfortunately, I know this girl from somewhere.

Her make-up is heavy; cats eyes and dark red lipstick. She looks like a skimpy Aishwarya Rai. The woman disappears, leaving Finnick and I to watch an unimpressive redhead who could put on a few pounds. She wore a pink sequined bra and short set.

Next, the emcee announces a pair of girls, Artemis and Aphrodite. The silver-eyed goddess finds me immediately, taking the pole directly in front of me. The difference between Artemis and the girl before her is that Artemis doesn’t even need to hold onto the pole half the time. I have no idea how her skin isn’t ripping off in sheets. The second after the music starts, the two rip off their clothes, revealing what I assume is more practical for their ‘job’; a white strip of fabric covering small breasts and white boy shorts. Stripper or not, this woman is flawless, except for the fact that as ‘What You Do for Money Honey’ plays, her eyes stay focused on me. Upside down with one leg bent while the other is stretched towards the ceiling, her silver eyes somehow manage to find mine. I watch as she walks on air into an upright position and lets go of the pole. She has to be the only woman in this building who could possibly make that look sexy. She walks to the edge of the stage and crouches down, her legs completely spread. Finnick gives her a twenty. I say fuck, give her my whole paycheck!

She winks at him and tucks the bill into her top before going back to the pole as another song starts.

“See?” he shouts over the music. “I told you, hypnotic when they’re good!”

Finnick kept his promise and after the goddess-named pair leaves the stage, I find myself staring at her again. Her dress, if you can call it a dress, is back on and barely covers her shorts. ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails starts and she walks towards me, each beat at the beginning timed perfectly with her steps, “Hands at your side,” is all she says to me, while running her fingers through my hair.

She doesn’t hesitate to get into my lap. The strange thing about a lap dance is that it’s basically the illusion of sex. Her ass is round, her legs are long and well-toned. She grinds into me before resting her back on my chest, continuing to attempt to get me off with her ass crack as she continues running her fingers through my hair.

_I want to fuck you like an animal._

I couldn’t agree more, Trent Reznor! “So why did you pick Artemis?” I ask as she slides off my lap. I’m not sure if she feels awkward about giving me an erection. I’m guessing not, since that’s her job, but I do. So I try to make conversation.

She rests her hands on my shoulders and slides down my chest, her breasts brushing against my hard-on.

_I want to feel you from the inside._

“The genus of the plant my father named me after is called Sagittaria. Didn’t like that name, so I picked another archer,” she says before smiling and turning her hands on the chair. Before I know it, she’s upside down, her ass just under my neck and feet over my shoulder. She’s strong, really strong, and fucking hot as hell. I want to rip off her stupid goddess get-up, followed by the underwear because it’s doing nothing for me. I want to press her up against the wall, bend her over and have her ride me. This woman isn’t hypnotic, she’s the bokur stealing my ti-bon-ange, the essence that is me and controlling it, and I don’t mind it at all.

When she straddles me, grinding her groin against my erection, her fingers never leave my hair. I try as hard as possible not to cream my pants.

The song is over too soon. I already miss her warm hands and playful smile as she runs the tip of her finger down my cheek. “See you Monday…” she tells me, and is gone.

What does that mean? Is she expecting me to come back?

I couldn’t get her out of my mind all weekend, then biology came on Monday. The TA was late, so I busied myself on my cellphone, still unable to shake Artemis from my mind.

“Mr. Mellark, you know the rules about cell phones in this classroom. Just because I’m a teaching assistant doesn’t mean you can piss all over the rules,” her voice says. A requirement of my major is Biology I, a one-hundred level class I’d been putting off until the second to the last semester of my undergrad. The TA is about my age, and being talked down to is just fucking annoying sometimes.

“Sorry. I-“ I can’t get anything else out, because the same silver eyes as Friday are staring back at me, only she’s wearing next to no make-up. _Fuck! And now the only thing you can think of is her crotch in your face…_

“It was my Mom,” I say awkwardly, like that will make everything better. I hear the NIN song in my head, and can even smell her perfume.

She’s already teaching us the basics of genetics, and I don’t take a single note the entire fifty minutes. I just stare at her ass, not even trying to avoid it. She’s in a tight, grey pencil skirt and a forest green button up shirt. Her heels only show off the toned legs and round ass I’ve been dreaming about for the past three days.

Once class is over, everyone gets out in a hurry. The science building is a good distance away from the Humanities and Life Sciences building where most of the other classes are held. I, on the other hand, have nothing for two hours. “Well… this is awkward,” she says to me with a smile after the room clears.

“No,” I laugh nervously. “Not at all…”

There’s a pregnant silence between us. “How does your skin not rip off?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer at first. We’re in a public place and maybe she’s not that open about what she does for money. She walks to the door and closes it. “This room is free until two… And how convenient, Mr. Mellark, you caught me during my office hours.”

“I’ve heard of sexy school girl, sexy teacher, but never sexy TA…”

She doesn’t walk back to me, instead pulling a botany book from the top shelf of a bookcase.  “Here…” she says, handing it to me. “If you can find my name in this book, my real name, I’ll fuck you.”

“You said it at the beginning of class, and you’ve been in this class off and on all semester.”

Artemis smirks in response. “You haven’t paid attention to a damn thing I’ve said since January, Peeta Mellark. Though I know you read the book, because I got to _assist_ with grading the last exams. I’m pretty sure you got in the high B’s, which is probably a good thing since you’re a psychology major.”

“Are you serious? How am I supposed to find your name in this fucking thing?” I complain. She grabs book from my hand and drops it on my desk. The bang echoes through the room as she tangles her fingers in my hair again, pressing her body against mine.

“I gave you the genus of my name, Mr. Mellark, or were you too distracted on Friday? Maybe you should have gotten off your phone when that idiot who sits next to you asked a question!”

She kisses my cheek, and I can feel her chapstick leave a greasy imprint of her perfect lips right where I didn’t shave this morning. “How long do I have?”

She looks at her watch. “Well, it’s noon, and you’re not some fifteen-year-old so I’m expecting some stamina from you. We have two hours, but I don’t want a quickie.”

“We could go back to my place?” I offer. She thinks before grabbing the book.

“Good plan. Comparative Anatomy is dissecting cats today, and they fucked up preserving them again. I don’t trust these idiots to clean up bodily fluids as far as I can throw them,” she tells me while shoving the book in her satchel.

“With your arms, that has to be pretty far,” I tease as she nervously adjusts the strap on her bag.

“Listen, Peeta. Don’t say anything, okay?” she pleads as we make the short walk back to my apartment. “I do it two towns over so people I know don’t go. I wear a hideous amount of make up so the people I know don’t immediately recognize me.”

“Why do it if you’re ashamed?” I ask, sliding my ID though the reader to get into my building.

“I made five-hundred dollars just this weekend, and I was only there for about twelve hours. You do the math. School is expensive and financial aid is a fucking bitch to get.”

I lead her into my apartment, wanting to kick Finnick for leaving it a shithole. “Dude!” I hiss as he walks out of the bathroom in only his boxers. We have two other guys living with us, Cato and Marvel, but they don’t associate with us all too often. More often than not, both of them end up sleeping at their girlfriend’s places.

Finnick puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry, do you find this distracting?”

I take Artemis (or whatever her real name is) by the hand and we go into my bedroom. The prospects of me getting laid far outweigh entertaining Finnick. Once I close the door, she doesn’t hesitate to take off her shoes and flop down on my bed. “Better get cracking, Peeta. Want a hint? It’s a monocot from the family [_Alismataceae_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alismataceae).”

Fuck, I hate botany. I try to recall that night, ignoring the tightness in my pants as she runs her fingers through my hair. I remember the feel of her breasts against my chest, her ass in my face. All of that was after I stopped feeling awkward as hell…

_What did I ask her?_

I replay our conversation in my head, and then it hits me. I use the index to find it. “ _Sagittaria_  is a genus of about thirty species of aquatic plants whose members go by a variety of common names, including arrowhead, duck potato, iz-ze-kn, katniss, kuwai, swan potato, tule potato, and wapato. Most are native to South, Central, and North America, but there are also some from Europe and Asia. The generic name means "belonging to an arrow" in Latin and refers to the shape of the leaves.The genus lies within the water plantain family, the _Alismataceae_.”

“I win, Swan Potato,” I say out loud and she looks at me, clearly entertained before popping the first two buttons of her top to expose the purple lace of her bra.

“Call me by my real name… And I’ll give you a few more…”

“Katniss…” I breathe. It’s the only one from that list that makes sense.

She smiles and before I know it, the shirt is on the floor. She drops the skirt but leaves on the heels. “Sit,” she commands. I flop down on my bed and she pulls my shirt roughly over my head. “Have to get you caught up.”

I stare at the purple lace keeping me from her tits. “You can touch me, you know…” she murmurs, sliding off my pants. I cautiously reach into her bra, running the tip of my index finger over her pebbled nipple. Katniss moans and kneels in front of me.

“Forgive me, but I’m offended I didn’t register on your radar until my crotch was in your face…” she tells me, working me out of my boxers. “I’ve watched you in class…”

I jump when her steady hand takes hold of my rock hard cock. I look down as she rests her cheek on my thigh, the side of my dick basically against her cheek. “I don’t have VD, just to let you know.”

I smack my forehead. “I’m sorry…”

“Cray makes sure we get tested, don’t want to spread anything from pole to pole…” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. She knows exactly what she’s doing, her hand and mouth working so perfectly together I have to push her off so I can actually fuck her.

Katniss wipes her mouth, blushing. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

She shakes her head and reaches behind her back, unhooking her bra. “No,” I groan. “Your moans, they…” I’m rendered silent as I watch her dip her fingers into her underwear and when she pulls them out, they’re slick with her arousal.

She’s been in charge up until this point, but now it’s my turn. I lay down on my bed, “Take off your underwear,” I instruct, and pat my shoulders. Now she’s the one who’s embarrassed and cautiously she sits on my chest. She’s shaved, most likely for work, with nothing obstructing her perfectly pink pussy. I run my hands along her olive thighs, the muscles tensing under my touch. “Well, come on…”

She bites her lip and goes to move but I pull her forward, wasting no time. I’ve been dreaming about this, not enough to be obsessed but enough to be curious. Though with this girl, once is definitely enough to become addicted. I need to know how she smells, how she tastes, the exact sound of her moan and if it changes when she gets close to coming.

She braces herself against the wooden headboard of my twin bed and when I move from her pussy to her clit, she doesn’t hold back. “Fuck!” she gasps. “Peeta!”

When Katniss gets closer to her peak, her moans become higher in pitch, but are less frequent as she gasps for breath. She also makes the cutest dejected groan when I stop just before she comes. “Why?” she pants. “Why, why, why?” She gets off me, angry that I wouldn’t let her come.

“I want to know what you feel like when you come,” I tell her while standing up. We don’t need the formality of missionary, so I turn her around and position her for my personal favorite, doggy-style.

She’s slick and nice and tight, not virgin tight but perfectly so. I feel her muscles clench a little as I enter her and she practically purrs. “Pull my hair,” she groans. I take a hold of her braid and use it to hold on.

She uses one hand to keep herself up, teasing herself with the other until she’s screaming my name over and over; her back arches, her muscles hugging my length, which quickly sends me over the edge. I let go of her hair and she faceplants on my bed. I unceremoniously move her legs so I can join her, our sweaty bodies pressed against each other on the extra-long twin bed.

We don’t say anything for a while. Since she’s face down on my bed, I poke at her ribs to check for signs of life. Her wild flail and childlike giggle sends me into a fit of laughter.

“Now, if only all Biology classes had rewards like that… I could turn my low B into an A.”

She smiles. “On top of being a TA, I’m also the Biology tutor. If you ever get your lazy, horny ass to the Center for Teaching and Learning,” she pauses, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Or I could just write the terms from your current chapter on my body and make you define them before we proceed.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, but I still have to take Bio two next semester…”


End file.
